Bother Lady Mixby for putting that vision of him with a pearl earring into her mind. Though, to be fair, she’d come up with that vision of soapsuds slithering over his naked masculine musculature all by herself.
Well, it was no use having visions of that sort. Because they were weakening her resolve to put an end to a betrothal which should never have begun.
She drew on every ounce of pride she possessed, and said, ‘Thank you,’ in as calm a voice as she could muster. ‘The maid you sent was very proficient. It is entirely due to her,’ she couldn’t resist adding, ‘that I no longer look as though I’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards.’
‘You have never looked as though you had been dragged through a hedge backwards,’ he said, in a manner that must have looked to everyone else like gallantry. ‘Not even after you spent the night sleeping in hay.’
‘Sleeping in hay?’ Hugo, who’d leapt to his feet, was grinning. ‘I heard a rumour that you spent last night in a barn, Halstead. And now you have confirmed it.’ He rubbed his hands together in glee. ‘I can’t wait to hear how all this came about.’
‘Come, let me place you at my right hand, Miss Carstairs,’ said the Duke, ignoring Hugo as he led her to the rather small square table standing in the very centre of the room.
Hugo took the chair at his left without being asked.
‘As you can see,’ said Gregory witheringly. ‘We are dining informally tonight.’
‘I thought it for the best,’ said Lady Mixby. ‘All things considered.’
‘Yes, but some of us have managed not to forget our manners,’ he replied, as Mr Bodkin held out a chair for Benderby.
Hugo shot Gregory a look loaded with resentment, but didn’t get to his feet. Really, he was a very badly behaved boy. He put her in mind of one of the subalterns once under her father’s command, who’d come from a good family and had resented taking orders from men he regarded as his social inferiors. It had been insecurity, she’d overheard her father explain to her mother, that had made the lad so spiky and awkward, not any deep-seated malice. And once he’d proved his worth in battle his manners had greatly improved. What a pity there was no battle that Hugo could fight—that would knock some sense into him.
Benderby gave the butler a slight nod once they were all seated more or less where they wished, and he in turn marshalled Sam, his footman, into action.
‘I do hope the meal will meet with your approval,’ said Lady Mixby anxiously.
‘I am sure it will,’ said Gregory. ‘Since Mrs Hoskins was not expecting us today, we can hardly expect her to have prepared anything fancy, can we?’
The housekeeper would have had a jolly good try, though. Having the Duke turn up out of the blue must have created a state bordering on panic below stairs.
‘The cook here is excellent,’ put in Hugo. ‘I can vouch for that.’
‘No doubt,’ said the Duke. ‘Since you have been availing yourself of his services for the past se’ennight.’
‘Only five nights, in point of fact,’ said Hugo smugly.
‘Thank you, Hugo,’ said Gregory repressively. ‘There is no need to dwell on that just now. Is the soup to your liking, Miss Carstairs?’ he asked, turning to her.
‘The soup? You want to talk about the soup?’
He gave her a look that was almost as quelling as the one he’d directed at Hugo. It made her want to seize the tureen and upend it over his head. But she wasn’t going to allow him to goad her into that kind of behaviour.
‘The soup is delicious,’ she said, satisfying herself with imagining it dripping down his clothes.
The Duke of Halstead—for now that he was speaking in that odiously pompous manner she couldn’t think of him as anything less—turned to Mr Bodkin.
‘And you, Mr Bodkin? Everything is to your satisfaction, I trust?’
Mr Bodkin mumbled something indistinguishable, his face glowing an even deeper shade of red than it had been when Gregory had commended his manners while criticising Hugo’s.
The poor man. As well as feeling out of place, he must now feel out of his depth, with all the undercurrents swirling between the diners seated at this table.
Lady Mixby tried to lighten the atmosphere by launching into typical dinner table conversation. But since it was mostly about people Prudence had never heard of, and events she’d never considered before, it only had the effect of making her feel a strong kinship with Mr Bodkin. And although she knew that they couldn’t possibly talk about anything very confidential or meaningful in front of the servants, every time a new dish came to the table she grew more and more tempted to empty the contents over the Duke’s head. Which in turn reinforced her earlier fears that she didn’t belong here. Because what kind of woman would empty the soup tureen over the head of a duke?
But at length the servants stopped scurrying to and fro, ceased depositing fresh courses on the table and whisking away the old ones. Sam deftly removed the cloth and Perkins brought in a decanter of port on a silver salver. Lady Mixby stood up, signalling that it was time for the ladies to withdraw to...wherever it was that ladies went in this house. Prudence would just have to follow Lady Mixby and Benderby, who’d also risen from her place.
As she got to her feet Mr Bodkin shot her a look bordering on panic. She could heartily sympathise with his reluctance to be left to the tender mercies of Gregory and Hugo. At least while she’d been at table he hadn’t been the only one feeling like a fish out of water.
Hugo had been wriggling in his seat like a schoolboy waiting to be let out of lessons for some time. He was evidently itching to have Gregory to himself so they could settle up over their wager.
As the men rose to their feet, she wondered whether she could breach protocol by inviting Mr Bodkin to join the ladies. She was just about to suggest it when Gregory picked up the decanter and made for the door which Perkins was holding open.
‘Hi, where are you going with that?’ Hugo objected.
‘The morning room,’ said Gregory. ‘We shall all be more comfortable there.’
‘I shan’t,’ said Hugo.
‘Hugo,’ Gregory growled. ‘I told you I was not going to discuss...anything with you before I had explained it all to Miss Carstairs.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘The sooner we get it all out into the open the better,’ said Gregory implacably. ‘Lady Mixby, you will forgive us if just this once we break with tradition and accompany you to the morning room, won’t you?’
‘Of course,’ she said at once. ‘I am positively agog with curiosity.’ She flushed. ‘Not that I... I mean of course I’m sure it is none of my business, but... Oh, do come along, Hugo!’ She turned a beseeching look in his direction. ‘Nothing so exciting has happened in this family for an age. I, for one, cannot wait to hear Halstead’s account of how he met Miss Carstairs, and if he says he wishes to give it in the morning room then I see no reason why we shouldn’t all go there at once.’
‘Miss Carstairs?’
He was actually deigning to ask her opinion?
‘It is well past time you explained yourself,’ she said. Her patience had been stretched thinner and thinner the longer the meal had dragged on, and it wasn’t going to take much for it to snap altogether. ‘And if you call me Miss Carstairs once more, in that odiously pompous way, it won’t be tradition that will be broken!’
‘I say, Miss Carstairs,’ said Hugo. ‘I think I am beginning to like you.’
It was all she could do to resist the urge to poke out her tongue at him. He was the kind of boy who dragged everyone down to his level.
Fortunately Lady Mixby took her arm before she could poke out her tongue, or hurl any dishes, or slap anyone’s face.
‘I know you recall the way to the morning room, but let me get you settled into a comfortable chair—not too close
to the fire, but out of any draught,’ she said, leading her across the hall and into the reception room she’d been in earlier that day.
It was no longer flooded with light. The sun had moved round to shine through the windows in a different part of the house, leaving the whole room rather gloomy, in spite of the fire crackling in the grate. She wondered that the ladies chose to withdraw to this room in the evenings, and why they called it the morning room if it was used at other times of the day.
‘Rather than have you all bombarding me with questions,’ said Gregory, once they’d all taken seats in various parts of the room that Prudence thought ought more properly to be called the...the sitting room. Or the ladies’ parlour. Or something that actually described the fact that ladies used it at many times of the day. ‘I have decided it would be better for me to relate my story in my own words.’
Typical. Everything had to be his own way.
‘But before I begin it occurs to me that it would be rather ungentlemanly of us to sit here drinking our port while you ladies go without refreshment. So I wonder if you would care to join us. Just this once? While we are dispensing with tradition?’
‘Oh!’ Lady Mixby’s face lit up. ‘How novel. Yes, I should love to try a glass of port.’
‘Miss Benderby?’
‘I’ll not refuse, Your Grace.’
He opened his mouth, as though to ask Prudence if she’d like a glass of port, and then paused. Was he recalling her objection to him calling her Miss Carstairs in that odious manner? Was it too much to hope he was actually considering her feelings?
She turned to Lady Mixby. ‘I have never tried it, either, Lady Mixby,’ she said, ‘and I’m not sure if I should.’
‘I am sure it cannot be wrong, since His Grace has suggested it,’ said Lady Mixby, making Prudence grind her teeth.
‘You can have tea, if you would prefer it,’ said His Grace. ‘I shall have to ring for more glasses anyway. I can easily ask them to bring a pot and cups while they’re at it.’
‘I will light the candles while we’re waiting,’ said Benderby, getting to her feet. ‘Then the servants will have no excuse to come knocking on the door without us sending for them.’
‘Oh, what a good idea,’ said Lady Mixby. ‘This room is always so gloomy in the afternoons. It will look so much more cheerful with some light.’
So why do you sit here, then? Prudence wanted to ask, but didn’t. It would only show her up as someone who didn’t understand the way the upper classes lived and made use of their houses.
As Benderby went round lighting the candles and drawing the curtains Prudence succumbed to the temptation to try a glass of port. She had a feeling that a cup of tea wasn’t going to be enough to sustain her through the rest of the evening. She was going to have to sit and listen to Gregory explaining away the reasons he’d allowed an impertinent nobody to inveigle him into a betrothal. Oh, why hadn’t she asked to speak to him in private earlier? They could now be explaining that it had all been a mistake. That she’d had no idea who he was when she’d proposed. That she was doing her best to put things right.
Perkins arrived, and Gregory ordered him to bring three more glasses.
‘And will that be all, Your Grace?’ Perkins glanced round the room, his eyes resting briefly on the lit candles, the drawn curtains, and the full coal scuttle sitting on the hearth by the blazing fire.
‘We shall ring if we require anything else,’ said Gregory firmly.
Which left Perkins in no doubt that he had better not return to this room without that summons.
‘I shall begin by explaining,’ said Gregory to Prudence as he brought her a glass and poured just half an inch of the rich blood-red liquid into it from his decanter, ‘why I told you my name is Willingale and not about my title.’ He paused, his lips tightening for a second. ‘I suspect that by now you have worked out that some of what I have been doing over this past week is on account of a wager I made with Hugo.’
Prudence nodded. Her feelings were so turbulent she couldn’t have formed a sensible response even had she wanted to.
‘Hugo is not only my nearest male relative, but my heir,’ he said, sauntering across to where Hugo was lounging on an armchair and pouring a generous measure into the glass Hugo was holding out ready. ‘Therefore I make him a quarterly allowance. Which he considers insufficient.’
Hugo snorted and pulled a face.
‘We were having one of our regular discussions, during the course of which Hugo accused me of being miserly...’
Lady Mixby gasped. ‘Oh, Hugo, how could you? Halstead is the most generous of men. You know very well he gave me a home here, saying it was so that I could look after the property which would otherwise remain empty and neglected. And he gives me a simply huge allowance. It is supposed to be for the household bills, which everyone knows his man of business settles in full because I haven’t the ability to look after a...a cushion! I’m that scatterbrained. I’d only get into a scrape if I was obliged to balance the accounts, if ever I was given any to balance—which I must own I haven’t.’
She paused with a frown as her speech became too tangled even for her to follow herself.
‘Yes, yes, he’s always been very generous to you,’ said Hugo, as Gregory took her glass and gave her twice the amount he’d poured for Prudence. ‘But he don’t understand what it’s like being on the Town these days. If he’d only increase my allowance I wouldn’t have to keep going to him to bail me out.’
‘And I repeat,’ Gregory said wearily, arriving at the chair upon which Benderby was sitting and filling her glass to the brim. ‘Until you learn a little sense, and stop allowing yourself to be gulled by a lot of Captain Sharps, raising your allowance will only serve to line their pockets.’
‘And I repeat,’ said Hugo, as Gregory went to the sideboard to fetch another glass. ‘Anyone can be gulled when first on the Town. It has happened to lots of my friends. So I said to him,’ he said, turning to Prudence, ‘that I’d like to see him exist on what he allows me out in the real world, without an army of servants at his bidding to smooth his way.’
‘And I replied that not only could I exist,’ said Gregory, taking the port to where the mill worker was perched on the edge of an upright chair by the window, ‘I could also make myself useful—which is something Hugo has never even attempted to be.’
‘Well, you can see how it was,’ said Hugo to Prudence. ‘He sat there behind his desk, looking down his nose at me, when he has never had any notion of what it’s like to manage on a limited income, let alone have dealings with ordinary people on equal terms. So I challenged him to do it. To live for just one week like an ordinary man, on what he’d expect me to live on, without being obliged either to pawn something or ending up in the roundhouse.’
So that was why he’d been so reluctant to pawn his watch. And had been prepared to muck out a cow byre rather than risk being taken to the local magistrate. It would have meant losing the wager.
Prudence felt as if she’d been hit in the stomach by an icy fist. She’d made a fool of herself. Had sung in public and been molested by drunks because she’d thought he looked upset at the prospect of having to pawn that watch. How could he have let her do that?
‘In my arrogance,’ he said, ‘I accepted. Not only to survive for one week on Hugo’s terms but to achieve something useful, which I’d already stated I could do. The letter from you, Mr Bodkin, was lying on my desk. I had already decided to investigate your complaint. But with Hugo’s challenge ringing in my ears I vowed to go in person to Wragley’s and put right what was wrong, rather than just sending an agent.’
‘What?’ Mr Bodkin got to his feet, sloshing port over the back of his hand. ‘You came up to Wragley’s, pretending to be someone you’re not, and goaded me into getting into a fight with my foreman, so’s I lost my job and my home, because of
some stupid wager?’
‘Not exactly,’ said Gregory. ‘I had come to investigate the claims you’d made, and I was never pretending to be someone I’m not. My family name is Willingale. I just omitted to inform you of the titles I possess.’
‘Aye, but—’
‘I know, I know...’ Gregory raised his hands in a placatory gesture. ‘The foreman turned you out of your job and your home. But I did tell you, did I not, that if that happened you should come here and the Duke himself would make it all right? That if you handed the ring I gave you as a token to the lady who lived here she would take you in and house you until such time as the Duke could reinstate you?’
‘Aye, but—’ He rubbed the back of his hand with his other cuff.
‘And I shall not only reinstate you, but will promote you to foreman, since I have excellent reason to know I can trust you to fulfil the role with complete integrity.’
Bodkin sat down abruptly. ‘I never thought to... I mean, thank you, Mr Will... I mean, Your Grace,’ he stammered, attempting to get to his feet again. And then sinking straight back down again under the weight of his sudden, unexpected elevation to factory foreman.
‘I have already sent a letter of dismissal to Bigstone,’ said Gregory. ‘Though that is a mere formality.’
‘Hold on a minute,’ said Prudence. ‘A formality? Don’t you have to give a reason for dismissing one of your workers?’
There was a rustle of clothing as everyone turned to look at her as though wondering who’d spoken. Yes, they’d all forgotten she was there, so interested had they been in hearing about Gregory’s determination to win his stupid wager with Hugo.
‘Isn’t it a gross abuse of your rank simply to turn a man off on a whim?’
‘But it isn’t a whim,’ said Gregory, looking thoroughly perplexed. ‘I have just told you—we found proof that he had not only been cheating me, but had abused his own power over the workers under him.’
‘So you write one letter, explaining nothing, and—poof! He’s out on his ear. Is that how you normally operate? Trampling over lesser beings as though they are of no consequence?’
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